


Slide Show

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Written during the TXF Write In challenge using the prompt Slideshow. This was a 15 minute word vomit that I tweaked a tiny bit to get it into some kind of shape for posting.





	Slide Show

She kind of missed the old slide projector. The shape of it on the desk. The way it thwumped and hummed to life. Cast a dull glow in the room. The smell of the dust burning under the lamp. The click-whirr of the changing of the slides. She missed its solidity. Its presence was like a member of the team. And of course it reminded her of that dark basement, of the anticipation of what was to come, the thrill of the unknown, the irritation at the ambiguity of the presentations, the things left unshown, the stuff Mulder kept to himself.  
The slideshow was the very essence of Mulder. When she was still learning him. Still waiting for him to hand out the assignment like a lecturer. She wrote her reports, but did he grade her in private? How long must he have spent hunched over the desk putting those little shows together? How many slide carousels would have gone up in smoke in the fire?  
A Powerpoint presentation from a sleek laptop just didn’t cut it. It was too smooth, too easy. The images sliding by in silence, not making themselves known in any way other than visual. It made cases seem distant, too glossy and unreal to be investigated. She knew Mulder felt the same way. Could see it in his body language. The gritty need to investigate just wasn’t there. The images may have been brighter, sharper, more lurid in their detail, but the thing that made them whole was missing.  
“This is the second victim, Scully. What do you see?”  
She stood up and crossed the floor to the door. He frowned back at her. She shook her head slightly. “Nothing much at the moment.”  
“But these marks here, are they not familiar to you?” He pointed the red laser at the screen. An evil eye cast across the purity of the high definition.  
“Not yet,” she said, opening drawers in the filing cabinet.  
“What are you doing, Scully?”  
It was here somewhere. She was sure of it. Could picture leaving piling it up with the other detritus of a life spent in Mulder’s wake. A life that had been contained in boxes and files despite the ease with which it had previously burst from its confines and threatened to engulf all around them.  
She lifted out a box of Manila folders, covered in dust strings. There it was. She pulled it free and shook it before turning to face Mulder.  
“What is that?”  
“Don’t you miss the old days? When we lurched from case to case on the strength of an anonymous letter, a tip off, a collect phone call, a mystery note pushed under the door? We had to work from the very beginning, to do the hard yards. Don’t you miss the slideshow and the dim and blurry images? The graininess lent something to the cases, don’t you think?”  
“That’s a bandage, Scully. A sling, if I recall. For my injured arm. The Millenium zombies. I don’t miss the injuries and the fear that I would never see you again.”  
She put the gauzy sheet of fabric over the screen and winked at him. “We’re safe here, Mulder. But let’s view the case through the lens of the good old days and really get back into this.”  
She flipped off the light. Let the eerie glow from the screen settle. He pulled up the chair next to her and they watched the horror of the unexplained murders unfold in the dark, just like old times. She smiled when his hand slid into hers. That bit was new.


End file.
